Slaughterhouse Nine Power Taylor: One-Shots
by Thinker6
Summary: Short stories in which Taylor Hebert gets powers from the Slaughterhouse Nine. Some are short and lighthearted snippets, others are longer and more serious.
1. Bonesaw

Victoria took in the bloody scene before her.

"What the hell did you do to my sister?"

Taylor Hebert, M.D. (honorary) and Amelia Dallon, M.D. (honorary) turned to Victoria. For a moment, no one spoke. Then Taylor smiled and went back to finishing the stitches on Panacea's head.

"I can't break doctor-patient confidentiality. It's up to Amy if she wants to tell you." said Taylor. "But I'm curious. How do you feel, Amy? Was it a success?"

Amy stared at Victoria, wide eyed. Then she shook her head wonderingly and smiled. "It worked. I can feel it. A perfect, complete success. I don't love her at all, anymore!"

And that was how Taylor Hebert, M.D. (honorary) solved everyone's problems, saved the world, and ended up in the emergency room as a patient for the second time.


	2. Mannequin

"...and _this_ one, the Microorganism Evolution and Containment Locker (M.E.C.L.) can safely contain a thousand bacterial strains, evolving them in parallel to match arbitrarily specified goals. Or it will, once I'm finished with the coding. Right now I've got it up to five strains at once. _This_ one on the top shelf is evolving bacteria to eat plastic. Turning the non-biodegradable into the biodegradable! Just this single shelf will solve thirty five percent of our worldwide recycling problems."

"Taylor-"

"Wait, wait. I'm sure you're going to say 'Taylor, won't your plastic-eating bacteria destroy civilization if they get loose in the wild?'. And I'd answer that yes, you're perfectly correct, _unless_ you take a look at the next shelf here. See? This one is evolving bacteria that _eat_ the plastic-eating bacteria, in case they get out of hand. Backups, redundancies! It's all under control. And now I'm sure you're going to say, 'Taylor, what if your plastic-eating-eating bacteria get loose?', but just look at the next shelf, here-"

"Taylor, wait. Stop."

Taylor looked up at Danny with a small pout. "Um, don't you like them?"

"They're great. Really. I'm just worried about you, kiddo. This is the ninth invention of yours I've seen that's shaped like a high school locker. You can't let one bad day in high school rule your life forever."

Taylor frowned. "My therapist says that it's wrong to avoid my traumatic memories. I can only heal once I've worked through them and conquered them."

"I'll support you in whatever you do. I just think you need to step back and see the big picture here. You don't need to go to high school anymore. You've got four patents to your name in the last two months. I'm proud of you, you're moving on to bigger things that I ever imagined, so it really hurts me to see you with like this. Such a bright future ahead of you, but you're still hurting so much from what happened in the past."

Taylor thought for a moment, then nodded. "You're right. Now that you mention it, I got some great ideas the other day for renewable biogenesis from inorganic materials in closed systems. I think I could help cut down global warming, maybe even sustain life on starships exploring the galaxy at sub-light velocities."

"Uh, right. That sounds cool, Taylor. Maybe you would enjoy inventing things more like that, instead of making yet another containment locker."

"...You're _totally_ right, Dad. Damn, I feel so foolish now. I spent weeks fixated on bio-containment locker designs, when I already knew that they were a dead end. I already reached the pinnacle of containment lockers with my last three designs, over here. My finest experiment."

Taylor led Danny to the far corner of the basement, where three narrow lockers stood in the corner. "I call them the Absolutely Safe Lockers."

Danny smiled. "'Absolutely Safe' Lockers? It sounds like you've worked through your fears already."

"That's right. If someone shoves you inside one of these you shouldn't feel any fear or anxiety at all. You can just sit back, relax, and live the rest of your life in absolute safety."

"The walls are pretty tough."

"Yeah, they're sealed completely. A self-contained biosphere to support human life that's immune to all outside interference. You name it - organic material, inorganic material, solids, liquids, gases, sound waves, thermal energy, electricity, magnetism, gravity, the strong and weak nuclear forces, tachyons, dark matter, teleportation, telepathy, empathy, technopathy. You can hit them with a hundred megaton nuclear bomb and it won't make a dent on the surface. _Nothing's_ getting in or out of these babies."

Danny tried to open one of the doors, but the lock didn't budge. "Then how do you open them to find out if your experiment worked?"

Taylor smiled and shook her head. "Oh no, Dad, you don't open them. I told you. You just leave these three lockers sitting there, sealed and closed in absolute safety. Forever and ever and ever."

She paused for a second, smiling at a private thought.

"Welp, enough of that. I'm off to solve global warming!"


	3. Cherish

Dinah sat on the back porch, slowly rocking back and forth. Her headaches were getting worse again. All last night she saw visions of reality, of _all_ the realities. Shattering into trillions of pieces and then dividing themselves neatly into a selection of dark and terrible fates. Chance of being trapped in a room away from her parents, 25.0153%, 38.6966%. Glimpses of a girl with a sweet face and a weapon held in her palm, men with guns, the man painted like a snake. Chance of being trapped in a room in the clutches of the snake-man, 45.0013%, 56.6661%, 87.5100%. As the numbers crept higher and higher, she had passed out from the strain.

Today she woke up with a splitting headache. Another day she had to stay home from school. She could still feel the numbers shifting and changing just beyond her vision, but she refused to look at them. She did her best to ignore them.

If she was crazy and delusional, like her parents told her she was, then she _should_ ignore them. The visions were hallucinations, something she should block out. And if she was sane, and she had powers to see the future, then...then she didn't stand a chance. She was just a kid. She couldn't stop something like that on her own. Her parents were supposed to protect her from things like that, but when she told them about her visions the numbers didn't change at all. That meant it was an inevitable fate. No one could protect her.

"Hi. You must be Dinah Alcott."

Someone was standing in the backyard. A tall high school age girl with a sweet smile.

Then...she wasn't crazy after all. It was all real, and this was it. The men with guns were coming for her. Dinah backed up until she was pressed against the door. She fumbled with the lock. Her parents were inside making lunch. If she could get inside, warn them, maybe...

"Don't worry about that. I'm not going to hurt you. I want to help you, actually."

'I'm not going to hurt you'. That's just what Mom and Dad said that bad men would say. Dinah forced herself to look at the numbers, winced as her headache worsened. Then her eyes widened when she realized that the girl was telling the truth. Chance the girl would hurt her in the next week, 0.013%.

"Oh, that's convenient. I don't have to convince you if you just use your power. See, I'm not one of the guys who's coming to get you." said the girl. "I'm sorry for giving you a headache. I don't think I can help with that."

"How...how do you know all that?"

The girl frowned. "You two kept me up all night. You were sensing what he was doing, feeling pain and fear and despair. He was sensing what you were doing, changing his orders for his troops, letting hope and triumph overcome his usual paranoia. Then you were sensing his confidence, worrying yourself sick until you vomited all over the floor. Back and forth, back and forth, planning your kidnapping together from across the city. One of the more dysfunctional relationships I've seen."

"You read my mind?"

"Maybe a little. I know things about people. Especially parahumans like you, I can tell a parahuman a mile away. You stand out like torches in the darkness, glowing beacons of fu-, um, messed up psychology, sucky relationships, neuroses and _stupid_ issues you just can't let go of. I can't help but see exactly what the fifty three of you in the city are doing at all hours, since you all insist on jamming into my mind the details of exactly how you're screwing up my city." The girl scowled. "Alienating your friends and family, seducing innocent people into a life of crime, beating people black and blue in the name of the law and then beating them again when the law isn't looking. And that's not counting those of you who act like angels in public to hide the time bombs ticking in your heads, ready to start a massacre when your pet issue inevitably sets you off."

Dinah shrank back against the door.

"Um. No offense meant. Like I said, I want to help you. You're a lot better than most of those guys, really."

"Oh, okay-"

"Except those times when your parents didn't believe you about your visions and you wished they were dead. That wasn't good at all."

Dinah paled.

"And when you beat up those little boys in school. Yeah, they were being too loud and you told them you had a headache, but they didn't really _understand_, you know? They're just kids, even when you tell them to shut up you can't expect them to stay quiet for long."

"I, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it. I-"

"Yeah, I know exactly how you feel. I'm just saying that none of us are angels here, you know? Your parents teach you that some people are just plain _good_, so when I got my power I looked for them. I found the devils, plenty of them. But angels, the pure and good people who would save me - there weren't any. The only one who could save me was me. And I...can't really call myself an angel."

The girl wasn't making any sense. Dinah swallowed, made herself concentrate on the numbers.

"Ninety three point two two four five three eight percent."

The girl laughed. "Wow, six decimal places! Pretty hopeful and confident, now. What does that mean?"

"That's the chance I'll be safe at home with my family at this time tomorrow."

"Nice power. So I'm fated to help you, then? What happened to my free will?"

Dinah shrugged. She didn't need to focus on the numbers and risk a headache. A glance was enough to see that they weren't changing. She kept her mouth shut, though. Saying anything to the girl was just tempting the numbers to change.

The girl sighed. "Fine, then. But I'm going to be spending a lot of effort to help you today. I'm helping you instead of helping the other twenty four kids locked away in cellars in this screwed up city. So I want you to return the favor, okay? Promise me that you'll become an amazing hero who helps me clean up the city so I can _finally_ get a good night's sleep."

Dinah nodded.

"Hell, you can do more than that, can't you? You're a parahuman who has an awesome power and isn't crazy. Less than half a dozen like you in the city. Hey, can you predict natural disasters, fires, earthquakes? Villain attacks? Good, good. How about Endbringers? Oh, too bad. Still, two out of three isn't bad. So make another promise to me, okay? Save the world while you're at it."

Dinah nodded again.

The girl grinned. "Good. If your parents don't want you to join the Wards, tell them you need their help to control your powers and get rid of the headaches. If that doesn't work, I'll stop by again. I can be pretty convincing."

The next day, the front page news story was about the peculiar circumstances surrounding the sudden death of the supervillain Coil. Apparently he donated millions of dollars to charity, sent seven newspapers a detailed list of his plans to take over the city, unmasked himself in public to reveal his identity as retired PRT officer Thomas Calvert. Then he was shot to death by a squad of his own mercenaries, who then died to the last man in a freak mishap with explosives. Parahuman involvement was suspected, and strict Master-Stranger protocols were put in place in the PRT facilities for the next month, but nothing ever came of it.

One week later, Dinah Alcott joined the Wards program. Vista gained a new friend, a welcome replacement for the ill-fated Shadow Stalker. Armsmaster gained assurance that his achievements would be recognized one day (with 97.112422% probability). Dragon gained a critical asset for coordinating responses to global threats. And two months later, Taylor Hebert finally got a good night's sleep.


	4. Miasma

PRT Case 46022 'Wisp'. Chronology of events (reconstruction).

[Jan 3, 11:15 am] Disturbance at Winslow High School. Six students, one teacher brought to clinic for headaches, dizziness, disorientation. At least twenty additional students report milder symptoms not requiring medical attention. Teachers investigate and find that affected students had been congregating at similar locations in the school hallways. Further investigation revealed an intense smell emitting from a student's locker. Examining the locker revealed more than ten pounds of biohazardous waste including weeks-old garbage and used tampons, packed so tightly they exploded out of the locker when it was opened. Section of school cordoned off, authorities contacted for hazmat disposal. Search begins for the student responsible for the locker, Taylor Hebert.

...

[Jan 3, 12:30 pm] Horton Gladly, teacher, ends class early when he and his students begin suffering headaches and nauesa. Classroom is near the location of the initial disturbance. Cordoned off area expanded, classroom sealed for later investigation by hazmat team.

...

[Jan 3, 1:17 pm] Julia McBain, student, reports loud sounds coming from a women's restroom. Upon entering the room, student reports seeing Taylor Hebert breaking a mirror by repeatedly striking it with a flashlight. Ms. McBain calls for the attention of teachers, who arrive less than a minute later and find the restroom empty. Ms. McBain claims that Ms. Hebert vanished in the time her back was turned.

...

[Jan 3, 1:21 pm] Julia McBain questioned on suspicion of vandalism.

...

[Jan 3, 1:26 pm] Julia McBain faints. Ms. McBain and the two teachers who investigated the disturbance report to the school clinc for severe nausea.

...

[Jan 3, 1:54 pm] Samuel 'Sparky' Slocumb, student, reports an assault by an unknown assailant. Six other students heard him scream and came to his aid but found him sprawled on the floor alone. Upon questioning, Mr. Slocumb claims the assailant was a female student who repeatedly slammed him against the wall while grappling his face and staring into his eyes. "She was a ghost, man. She grabbed me and I saw her, and then she kept _blinking_, y'know, blinking in and out of existence, immateriality or _pseudocorporealification_ or some shit like that. I thought she was Taylor but then I saw her face, that was some twisted shit right there. I think she was trying to tell me something. Like y'know, 'Beware the Ides of March', like she was the ghost of Taylor from the future, y'know, and she saw the end of the world and she came back in time to save us from that shit."

Samuel Slocumb questioned on suspicion of drug use.

...

[Jan 3, 2:23 pm] In separate incidents, three additional students report being attacked by an assailant resembling Taylor Hebert. Gregory Nieman, student, gave the most detailed account.

"I knew right away she was Taylor's ghost because she was transparent, she just _phased_ through the wall, floating in the air. She was wearing a bloody white dress and her hair was all long and stringy, covering up her face. She had this scary expression full of hate, but I wasn't scared, because I was her best friend so I knew she wouldn't hurt me. That was when I realized she came back for bloody revenge, revenge on all the people who wronged her in life." When questioned on why he believed Ms. Hebert to be dead and who she might target for revenge, Mr. Nieman refuses to elaborate citing the possibility of a "curse".

Ms. Hebert is not found at the scene of any of the attacks. Teachers dismiss the accounts as pranks.

...

[Jan 3, 2:45 pm] Taylor Hebert cannot be found on the premesis after an intensive search. Her father, Daniel Hebert, is notified by the police that she has gone missing from school.

...

[Jan 3, 5:28 pm] Transcript of 911 call from Daniel Hebert, father of Taylor Hebert:

"Brockton Bay Police Department..."

"This is Danny Hebert. I need help, there's something wrong with my daughter Taylor. She's...I don't understand it, but I can't see her."

"You can't see her? You mean she's hiding?"

"No, she's right here but I can't see her. They said she went missing at school, now she's here. She keeps hitting things and I can see her for a second, then she's gone again. She's trying to talk to me but I can't hear what she's saying. I would take her to the hospital, but, God, what can they even do for her? We need something to, to-"

"...Your daughter turned invisible? Mister Hebert, it's possible that your daughter has become a parahuman. I suggest that you contact the local PRT and ask for their assistance."

"Oh, I...of course. I mean, yes, it _is_ like she has a power. Or else...oh God, what if someone with powers did this to her. The PRT, can they help her, cure her? How do you cure something like this?"

"The PRT has experts for handling new parahumans, very professional. Actually I can contact them for you now, if you would like. They'll send a team to your house to get help for you and your daughter."

"Yes. Yes, thank you, please go ahead. I-oh!"

(clattering sound)

"Mister Hebert? Are you there? Hello?"

"...ah, yes, just dropped the phone. Thanks, Taylor. We just found out that invisible people can still give hugs. (chuckles). Ah, hm. Sort of hugs, anyway. Fading out after a second there. I guess we'll just need to hug each other more often."

"Mister Hebert, is there any other information the PRT needs to know before they come? Special needs, preferences? Your daughter's power, does it seem safe to be around? Any precautions the team should take?"

"..."

"Mister Hebert?"

"Sorry. Just...got something in my eye. No, no, nothing like that."

"I'm contacting the PRT now. A team should be at your house within the hour."

"What? I can't hear you, you're fading out."

"I said I'm contacting the PRT now, they'll be at your house within the hour."

"Ok. Ok. Great. Thank you."

...

[Jan 3, 5:36 pm] PRT Director Emily Piggot dispatches a team to Hebert residence, following standard protocols for meeting with a new parahuman with potential to recruit for Wards program. Director Piggot cautions the team to be prepared to contain a potential threat to the public, noting that Ms. Hebert is likely to have recently triggered and may be linked to the disturbances at Winslow High School earlier in the day. Given Ms. Hebert's provisional Master/Stranger classification, Director Piggot sends a team with detection powers and area-effect containment abilities.

...

[Jan 3, 5:42 pm] Transcript of 911 call from Hebert residence:

"Brockton Bay Police Department..."

"..."

"Hello, this is the Brockton Bay Police Department, is anyone there?"

"..."

"Mister Hebert, we received your call and the PRT has dispatched a team to your location."

"..."

"Mister Hebert, are you there? Hello?"

(banging sounds)

"Mister Hebert, are you there?"

(banging sounds, line goes dead)

...

[Jan 3, 5:49 pm] PRT team arrives at the Hebert residence including four PRT officers and the heroes Armsmaster, Gallant, and Kid Win. Master-Stranger protocols initiated.

PRT officers form a perimeter around the residence, the heroes approach the house. The front door is ajar. No response to the doorbell. Armsmaster and Gallant detect a single person in the living room, enter the residence.

Daniel Hebert is found lying on a couch, unconscious and unresponsive. On the coffee table in front of him are three scribbled notes.

"Help me dad"

"I love you"

"What's wrong?"

A landline phone on the wall is observed to be smashed, accounting for the abrupt termination of the 911 call. There is no sign of Taylor Hebert.

...

[Jan 3, 6:20 pm] Director Piggot sends an alert to law enforcement agencies describing a new parahuman currently at large in the city with the temporary code name Wisp. Tall dark-haired girl of high school age. Master/Stranger class power that allows her to avoid detection, offensive power that induces sickness and unconsciousness. Unknown whether she is hostile but her powers seem to be uncontrolled, making her a danger to everyone around her. Officers who have reason to believe that Wisp is present should leave the area immediately and contact the PRT.

Alert forwarded to administrators of Winslow High School and Brockton Bay Central Hospital.

...

[Jan 3, 6:25 pm] Daniel Hebert admitted to emergency room at Brockton Bay Central Hospital.

...

[Jan 3, 6:40 pm] Daniel Hebert diagnosed with neurological damage, appears to be in a coma. Patient is scheduled for MRI.

...

[Jan 3, 6:59 pm] Daniel Hebert case referred to independent hero Panacea for her expertise on diagnosis of parahuman attacks. She reports that Mr. Hebert inhaled an unknown toxin that has since cleared from his system. Mr. Hebert is diagnosed with brain damage with symptoms including impaired vision, impaired hearing, and retrograde amnesia including memories of the last year. Panacea is unable to heal the damage but predicts that he will regain consciousness in two to four weeks.

...

[Jan 3, 7:11 pm] Disturbance at Brockton Bay Central Hospital. Outbreak of symptoms in emergency room patients including headaches, impaired vision, dizziness, confusion. Panacea calls the PRT to report the presence of a toxin in the air matching the properties of Wisp's ability.

Patients at high risk of lung and brain damage are evacuated. Panacea is put under guard in the secure wing of the hospital. The PRT team is reconvened and dispatched to the hospital with hazmat equipment.

...

[Jan 3, 7:22 pm] PRT team arrives at Brockton Bay Central Hospital. No sign of Wisp detected. Panacea is escorted to the emergency room, reports that the toxin has cleared from the air.

...

[Jan 3, 9:20 pm] Disturbance at residence of the Barnes family. Parents Alan and Zoe hear a scream from their daughter Emma's room. Emma tells them not to come in to her room, claims that she is changing clothes and was surprised by a spider.

Parents hear Emma carrying on an emotional conversation, assume she is talking on the phone. Approximately ten minutes later they hear repeated banging from her room. Upon investigation they find the door ajar and Emma lying on her bed barely conscious and disoriented. Next to her are a series of handwritten notes on loose leaf paper.

"It's me. Taylor. Congratulations, you fucked with me so hard I got superpowers. No one can see or hear me. Or smell that nasty shit you dumped on me. WHAT THE HELL? I though you were my friend, Emma. I never did anything to you. WHY?"

"Don't you dare lie to me."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Sophia is a hero? Her? Seriously?"

"You're sick. All of you."

"You don't get to blame it on them."

"Then you should be nice to me now."

"This is your fault. HELP ME!"

"Tell them the truth."

"Murder? You saw it?"

"Your dad is a fucking lawyer!"

"You should feel bad."

"What's wrong?"

"God its happening again its me I'm sorry I'll get help"

"Mr. and Mrs. Barnes, call 911 right away. Emma needs the hospital. I don't know what is wrong or how to fix it. I'M SORRY"

...

[Jan 3, 10:00 pm] Emma Barnes admitted to Brockton Bay Central Hospital, has recovered from confusion and appears fully alert though highly distraught. Diagnosed with blindness, auditory hallucinations, retrograde amnesia including memories of the last month. Referred to Panacea. Sight and hearing predicted to make partial recovery, odds of recovering memories unknown.

Signs posted on the doors of hospital and rooms housing Daniel Hebert and Emma Barnes, warning Wisp not to enter for the safety of everyone involved.

...

[Jan 3, 11:00 pm] PRT sends alert to be broadcast by local news programs. The public is warned of the presence of a new parahuman. Wisp is not known to be hostile but has uncontrolled powers that render her undetectable to normal senses and release a poisonous gas. The public is asked to contact the PRT immediately if they notice any symptoms of the sickness. Wisp is asked to come to the PRT, who promise not to press charges for people she injured unintentionally, and to provide expert assistance to help control her powers.

...

[Jan 3, 11:18 pm] Fight breaks out in the entrance to Fugly Bob's, two customers demanding a refund for food that never arrived. No wounds inflicted from the fight but one employee and two customers report debilitating headaches and nausea. Ten bystanders report similar but milder symptoms.

...  
...

PRT receive calls from more than one hundred households throughout the city reporting the presence of Wisp based on headaches, watery eyes, ringing in the ears, nausea, confusion, or lack of energy. The reports do not follow any obvious pattern and the vast majority are assumed to be psychosomatic or unrelated to the incident. Wisp remains at large.

...  
...

[Jan 4, 10:15 am] Police receive call from Winslow student Madison Clements. She confesses a role in bullying Taylor Hebert for months and conspiring to lock her inside a locker filled with biohazardous waste. Ms. Clements reports that after Taylor went missing she heard stories from multiple students who claimed that Taylor had become a ghost and attacked them, including Gregory Nieman who told her that Taylor was taking revenge from beyond the grave. Ms. Clements later called Emma Barnes' cell phone and was answered by Zoe Barnes, who told her that Emma was attacked by Ms. Hebert and was hospitalized with permanent brain damage. Ms. Clements asks to be taken into PRT custody for her own protection.

...

[Jan 4, 11:05 am] Madison Clements picked up by PRT officers, brought to headquarters.

...

[Jan 4, 1:30 pm] Sophia Hess aka Shadow Stalker called to PRT headquarters, suspended from duties as a Ward due to allegations of improper conduct and violation of probation.

...

[Jan 4, 2:00 pm] Director Piggot holds a meeting to discuss plans to bring Wisp into custody.

...

[Jan 4, 4:30 pm] Armsmaster and Kid Win place tinkertech sensors in the Hebert residence, the Barnes residence, Daniel Hebert's room in the hospital, and the entrances to Winslow High School.

...

[Jan 4, 6:10 pm] The caretaker of Brockton Bay Cemetery observes a young woman laying flowers at a grave. The woman stands in front of the grave for almost an hour, then vanishes into thin air when she sees him watching her. The caretaker reports the incident to the PRT but refuses to identify the grave the woman was visiting. Later investigation finds flowers on the grave of Annette Hebert.

[Jan 4, 8:03 pm] The receptionist at PRT headquarters finds a note on the front desk.

"I'm sorry for making people sick. I didn't know what I was doing. Today I found out how to control my power. I won't use it on innocent people anymore. You should make sure your heroes stop hurting innocent people, too. Wisp."

[Jan 11, 2:15 am] The PRT receive an anonymous tip on the location of the ABB leadership. The ensuing raid takes fifteen ABB members into custody including the supervillains Lung and Oni Lee, who were found unconscious in a back room of their hideout.

...

[Jan 11, 10:14 am] Zoe Barnes finds a note in her mailbox.

"Emma,

I'm sorry for what I did to you. I helped catch the villains who were in charge of the gang that hurt you. I don't know if that makes me a hero for you. I don't expect you to forgive me.

Maybe we can be friends again someday.

Taylor"


	5. Skinslip

Taylor Hebert, M.D. idly toyed with her martini. "It's good to see you again, Greg. Truly an honor, after all these years you've stuck with me."

Gregory Nieman, president for life of the official Epidermistress fanclub, blushed like a beet. "You're a valiant hero, Taylor. Hosting our annual dinner in your honor is the very least I could do."

She was a rogue, not a hero, but what the hell. She smiled. "Well, I'm flattered you think so. I may not be the best healer around, but I try my best."

"I don't choose to be a cape fan idly, Taylor," said Greg. "I take my fandom seriously. Deserving my fanhood isn't about simply healing the most people, winning a contest of unfeeling numbers. It's about _heart_, Taylor. Right here." Greg made his hand into a fist, pounded it against his chest. "Other healers have more numbers, but you have the most heart."

Taylor couldn't help but note that he was pounding on the right side of his chest. His heart was on the left. Oh well. It was the thought that counted.

"Really now, Greg?" she said, arching an eyebrow. "More heart than Cardiovasculizer?"

Greg shook his head. "Don't make light of my fannish passion, Taylor. You know what I mean. The others heal with a simple touch. You heal by giving of yourself. Cutting off your skin with your own hands, day after day, so that you can graft it onto the bodies of others who need it. Rare indeed to find a cape whose power requires such a dire cost, and rarer still is one with the _willingess_ to pay it, the sheer selfless, valorous, _goodness_."

Now it was Taylor's turn to blush.

"In my heart," Greg continued, "there is only one hero who so much as approaches you. And Scapegoat falls far short in his attitude toward those he heals. Every word a snark or a complaint, making light of their plight, knowing that they will feel obligated to thank him in the end regardless of his boorishness. Not like your calm, quiet respect, your noble humility that makes your patients see you as the angel you are."

Taylor found Scapegoat's wit to be rather charming, actually. She wished she had his skill at humanizing himself, at building a rapport with his patients. Greg's full-force idolization was putting her off balance.

"I'm glad you see it that way," she said. "It may look like humility to you, but I see it as just being honest. Heroes like Panacea have the power to do everything I do and more. That's why she's a world-famous hero, and I'll always be just 'that skin girl'. I don't mind it. I've made peace with it. I get to help people every day, bring light back into a few lives, and hell, even inspire a fanclub while I'm at it. That's more than enough for me."

Greg sputtered, literally taken aback. "I don't believe it, Taylor. Just 'that skin girl'? You'd let yourself be limited like that? That's not like you. I've watched your career. You're always thinking, always finding new tricks to use your power to heal, always going _beyond_ your limits. I bet there are a million ways you could use your power you haven't even thought of!

"Imagine the police ask you to heal a suspect for a crime. You're doing the thing where you plug your skin into theirs so you can take control of it and close all their wounds at once. The police are short on time, so they're interrogating him while you're healing him, and the suspect says 'I didn't do it'. And the police belive him, but you can _feel_ that he's lying to them because his skin tells you everything! The heartbeat pulsing under the skin, the sweat glands, the galvanic skin response...once you get plugged in, you're a living lie detector! You're practially a Thinker!"

Taylor was silent. Yes, she did that with prospective clients when she did their free evaluation, to get a read on how far she could push them when negotiating her fees. It let her afford to do more pro bono work. But she wasn't proud of that. It was supposed to be a secret.

Greg continued. "Or say you became a vigilante, a dirty one who dishes out harsh justice to the evilest of the evil villains. You can take off their skin and graft it onto your own and control it with your power! You get 20 pounds of skin from each villain you beat, then you can use it to do all sorts of things!

"Wrap ten layers of skin around you like armor, you're a Brute! Swing the skin out like a lasso and reel yourself in like it's grappling hook, you're a Mover! Or swing the skin out and schlorp it into their nose and mouth to suffocate them from half a mile away, you're a Blaster! Fill each of their skins with a mannequin dummy, use it to impersonate them and control the skins independently, you're a Master! And you can make your secret lair have floors and wallpaper made of _living_ human skin, you feed it with a sprinkler system that sprinkles human blood, then if an intruder comes inside you plug yourself into the wall and your base comes alive and crushes them to death, you're a Shaker!

"See, Taylor, if you get creative with your power, if you really exploit it to the max, you can do it all! Don't ever let anyone tell you that you're 'just' the skin girl!"

Taylor regarded him for a moment, silently sipping at her martini.

"Greg," she said, "...are you fucking nuts?"

...  
...

Author's note: Yes, Taylor was an impressive munchkin in canon. ...but lets not go too far. She would be a good Epidermistress, but some powers are too disgusting for even Taylor to munchkin.

Greg's fanboyism, on the other hand, knows no bounds.


	6. Psychosoma (Guest Star!)

Author's Note: In this chapter Taylor has her original power and the Slaughterhouse Nine power goes to a guest star.

...  
...

Grue gazed into the cloud of darkness covering the windows of the bank, keeping a lookout for the heroes who would come to stop their bank robbery. After a few seconds, he swore.

"Goddamn it. If we make it out of this I'm going to kick Tattle's ass."

"What's wrong?" said Regent. He looked up from the darkness-blanketed hostages.

"The Wards are out in force. _All_ of them."

"Shit." said Regent. He took a step back toward Angelica, the dog Bitch had left in the lobby, and glanced back to the vault where Bitch and Taylor the bug girl were loading the cash onto the dogs.

Grue looked out the window again. "I see Aegis, Clockblocker, Vista, Gallant, Kid Win. Some pumped-up muscle man too. At least Shadow Stalker isn't with them, thank God for small favors." He paused. **"Though Gallant does look tastier than usual."**

Regent laughed. "Gallant, eh? I didn't know you swung that way."

"No, I mean-" Grue stopped, whirled and blasted darkness behind him. He looked back and forth, then turned back to Regent. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"Someone right behind me. It sounded like...aaah, holy shit!" Grue raised his hands to his face and pounded madly on the sides of his motorcycle helmet.

"Grue! What's wrong?" Regent cast about for the source of the attack, then rushed to his side.

Grue was on the ground, flailing his limbs wildly. But his limbs were _changing_. Growing long and spindly and twisting into themselves, until with a thick wet ripping sound his arms turned themselves _inside out_, the leather of his jacket being drawn inward and replaced with thick layers of stringy muscle and tendons bubbling from within. The change rippled over his body in a wave, spreading from his arms to his chest to his legs until his entire body was transformed.

Grue's motorcycle helmet flipped open and an impossibly long segmented tongue snaked out and _licked_ Regent in the face. A wet, sloppy swipe stretching from the bottom of his neck to the top of his forehead. Regent squealed like a little girl and scrambled back, falling to the floor on his back.

**"Yum!"** said the monster. It rose to its feet, extending curved claws of bone from its knuckles and pulling off the helmet off its head in an acrobatic maneuver involving only its tongue. Its head was nothing more than a gnarled mass of sinew, with two black holes for eyes and a mouth with rows and rows of razor-sharp teeth.

Regent gulped and managed not to scream again. He shouted "Need some help here! Wards are here! They got Grue with...some fucked-up shit!"

The darkness in the bank was dissipating. As the darkness over the hostages disappeared, there was a chorus of screams as the more impressionable civilians caught sight of the monster standing above them.

The monster turned to the hostages and licked its lips. It took a step forward, then hesitated, as if caught between two opposing drives. Regent took the opportunity to run around the monster and take a position next to Angelica. The monster turned back to him and fell to all fours, like a cat ready to pounce.

Bitch came out from the vault, her dog Judas close behind her, laden with bags of cash and safe-deposit boxes.

"What the hell is that?" said Bitch.

"That's Grue." said Regent.

Bitch scowled. "Doesn't look like him."

"I told you. Fucked-up shit."

The monster hissed at Bitch. Bitch growled back at the monster. She pointed. "Angelica, Judas. Fetch."

The dogs moved forward, an implaceable wall of fetch-minded dogbeast. The smaller, humanoid monster backed away, tensed, then made an acrobatic leap over Judas onto Angelica's back. It extended its claws, bared its teeth, and vaulted off the dog's back in a headlong dive for Bitch.

At the precise moment the monster began its vault, Regent waved a hand and one of its legs buckled, sending its trajectory off course. Judas slapped the monster out of the air with his prehensile tail, and Angelica wheeled around and clamped it in her jaws. The monster gave a high-pitched, trilling squeal and contorted madly in her jaws, trying to escape her grip.

The bug girl rushed into the lobby. "What was that? What's-oh God." The monster turned its head to her and hissed, and she took a step back. "Oh fuck oh God. _That's_ Grue? I was tracking him with my bugs, and-"

"Get back to the money, Bug. I told you I'd handle it." said Bitch.

"What did they do to him? Oh God, Grue. I'm, I'm going to get Tattletale-"

"I _handled_ it. **Now get back to the money or I'll rip out your guts with my teeth and eat your fucking spleen!**"

The bug girl quailed, but didn't move. "Bitch, we can't leave him like this! We, look, we need his power to escape. Remember our plan, we need _oh my fucking God_!"

Bitch screamed and clutched at her head, her scream mirrored by the hostages who lined the walls. Her flesh warped and twisted as a monster bubbled out of her skin and took form. Burlier than the first, with heavily muscled paws for hands and feet and wickedly sharp spurs of bone from the knuckles, elbows, and knees. The monster that had been Bitch raised its paws to its face and shredded its dog mask, revealing a canine face with fangs and-

Regent pushed past the bug girl and tased the monster in the face. It dropped like a rock, pathetically trilling and writhing in pain.

The bug girl stared.

Regent shrugged. "It's all in the reflexes." He pointed at the monster on the floor and did his best impression of Bitch. "Judas, hold."

Judas whimpered and sniffed at the monster that had been his master. He reluctantly put a heavy paw on the monster, pinning it to the floor.

Regent turned to the bug girl. "Don't suppose you've figured out who's doing this?"

The bug girl jolted to life. "I don't sense anyone but us and the hostages in here, so...a ranged attack? A Stranger?"

The monster in Angelica's mouth braced itself and began levering her jaws apart. It should have been no contest, but Angelica wasn't making any effort to resist the monster. Judas had gone still as well, and his outer layers of flesh were sloughing off into a bloody pile on the floor. Just as Grue's darkness had faded away, Bitch's power had faded out, leaving the ordinary dogs trapped inside the bestial shells her power had grown around them.

"Shit." said Regent. He raised his scepter-taser. "Go get Tattle. I'll keep an eye on them."

"Right." The bug girl turned to go. "God, what do I even tell her. There's a new Ward who turns people into **nightmares to come and crack open her skull and slurp up her delicious brains?**"

Regent lunged for the bug girl and jabbed her with his taser, but the tines didn't penetrate her spider-silk armor. She slapped his taser away and wheeled on him.

"What the hell Regent? This isn't the time for _arrgleblarrrghagh-_"

Her armor folded into itself and was replaced by a spindly form of misshapen muscle. Her arms twisted and lengthened, bending in impossible shapes with far too many joints, and were joined by four more arms sprouting from her sides. The sinews of the monster's face writhed and sprouted six pairs of razor-sharp mandibles, as the monster-

-was tased in the face. It fell to the ground, writhing in pain.

"Not fast learners, are you?" Regent chuckled.

There was a soft thump as the Grue-monster pulled itself out of Angelica's mouth and set foot on the ground. The Bitch-monster righted itself and held itself low to the ground on its hands and feet, tensed and ready to pounce.

"Shit."

The Bitch-monster leaped, missing Regent by a hair as a spasm in one of its legs threw it off target. Regent ran, only to stop and back away as the Grue-monster blocked his path.

Regent looked to the windows of the bank. The Wards didn't have a clear view of what was happening, their view blocked by the hostages along the walls and by the massive, still forms of Angelica and Judas. The heroes had standards, but if the monsters started eating him alive he couldn't expect any help from that front.

Regent turned back to his opponents. He was surrounded on all sides. The bug-monster had crawled onto one of the walls, just out of his reach, and was getting ready to leap. His muscle spasms wouldn't throw off an eight-limbed pounce.

"This would be a good time to save the day, Tattletale!" he shouted. **"If you don't get your big mouth in here and save us we'll make short work of you with our bigger ones!"**

He paused, thought about what he just said.

"Fuck that shit." said Regent. He jammed his taser into his own chest and dropped like a stone.

The monsters were taken aback by that. After a moment the bug-monster leaped from the wall onto Regent's body, wrapping him in its six arms and sniffing his face inquisitively. Regent's body shuddered and warped into another monster, one with long, spindly, prehensile fingers and toes tipped with small, sharp spikes. The bug-monster licked its face, as if to welcome an old friend, and the Regent-monster licked it back.

The door behind the bank tellers opened and Tattletale burst out, a wide grin on her face. "Hey guys! Sorry I'm late, had to take care of, uh. Of some extras for. Uh."

The monsters turned as one. Four pairs of hungry, empty eyes.

"Balls." said Tattletale.

Tattletale drew her gun, and the monsters pounced.

...

_A stunning action scene involving clever inference of unknown powers, carefully calibrated gunshot wounds to reverse monstrous transformations, the use of a Thinker power to work around the invisibility effects of a Stranger power, desperate gambits involving hostages and a limited number of bullets in a magazine, information dug up from confidential PRT documents on the infamous 'Nightmare on Seventh Street' incident, threats to divulge dark secrets about an insecure girl's history, and psychological warfare via a live phone call to a talk show on Channel Four...has been omitted. _

_Sorry Tattletale, this isn't your story!_

...

Brandish arrived at the scene of the crime and was greeted by an unpleasant sight. Her worst nightmare, called forth into reality. Amy had used her disgusting power _again_. As if the first time hadn't been bad enough. And now she had used it to become a _villain_, robbing a bank with the Undersiders. Out of rebellion, or out of jealousy for the rest of her family for their decent, heroic powers. A stain on their family's reputation. She would have to arrest her own daughter.

Then Brandish looked closer. The monsters weren't eating anyone, this time. They were clustered at Amy's feet, sniffing at the Wards around them like a pack of curious dogs. An alarming sight, given that even the smallest of the monsters was bigger than Amy, but the Wards didn't seem to be overly concerned.

Her other daughter Victoria was there as well, in costume as Glory Girl. She was hovering above the others and making broad gestures with her arms as she excitedly recounted their glorious victory.

"And then I came in through the window, bam!" crowed Glory Girl. "I crushed her gun and stomped her phone and grabbed her in a bear hug and hit her with my aura. You should have seen the look in her eyes, like _oh shit_! She starts babbling, 'I give up, you got me, I'll be good', but Amy pops her head around the corner and gives her this _evil_ smile, and says-"

"'She's says she's psychic, Glory Girl. We can't take that chance.'" said Amy.

"And then Tattletale looks at Amy and she's like 'Okay, fine, whatever. Hit me with your whammy. I know it wears off.' And Amy says-"

"'It's not easy to control so many at once. It's a shame, but if one ran off in the confusion and got lost in the sewers for a few years...well, we'd have to report it to the PRT. Tattletale escaped, whereabouts unknown.'"

"And Tattletale looks at her like _oh double shit_, and she says 'You're heroes, the New Wave, you wouldn't really arrgleblarrrghagh-'"

"Arrgleblarrgh?" said Clockblocker.

"Yup, pretty much exactly like that. It was awesome." said Glory Girl.

One of the monsters leaped fifteen feet in the air and snapped at Glory Girl, its rows of serrated teeth futilely skidding off her forcefield. Amy grabbed the monster by the arm and shoved it to the ground. "Down, Tattletale."

The monster raised its head and let out a horrendous noise that was almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a pathetic whine.

Amy laughed and pushed the monster's head back to the ground. "Not so psychic _now_ are you, you scheming little bitch. You can have fun playing your head games with the other street scum in juvie."

Glory Girl joined in her sister's laughter, then clapped her hands. "So yeah, thanks for your backup, Wards and gentlemen, but we didn't need it. Chalk up another gang bust to New Wave!"

Brandish grimaced. Her second-worst nightmare. Amy had somehow managed to use her disgusting power to be a _hero_. Now she'd expect them to take her along on their missions.

It was vexing. It wasn't that she opposed the idea, on principle. Brandish believed in teaching young parahumans to make positive contributions to society no matter their powers, in showing compassion for parahumans whose powers were less photogenic. But all the same...something didn't sit right with her about turning people into bloodthirsty flesh-eating abominations.

"Your power is really something, Amy." said Gallant. Ever the diplomat. "Amazingly efficient at takedowns. Glory Girl, do you think you and I could work this into our team tactics, maybe-"

Gallant was cut off as one of the monsters leaped in his way and grabbed him by the shoulders, licking his face with its impossibly long tongue.

"Ack!" he sputtered, and staggered back. The other monsters perked up at the commotion and joined in, mobbing him and licking his face and hands. He raised a hand to fire an emotion blast.

"No, don't!" said Amy. "They don't respond well to aggression. Besides, you might disrupt the transformation, and then we'd have a gang of loose villains on our hands. Bear with it till the PRT vans get here."

Gallant grimaced, and covered his face with his hands to block two incoming tongues. "They, uh, they sure seem to like me, Amy."

"Yeah. They like you a lot. For some mysterious reason." Amy lunged forward and grabbed the tallest monster by the scruff of its neck. "No. _Bad_ Grue."

The Grue-monster let itself be tugged back by its scruff, but swiveled its head one hundred and eighty degrees and trilled at her insistently.

"_No_. Don't act like I don't know what you're thinking. Touch, but don't eat."

The Grue-monster crossed its arms and sulked, but obeyed.

"Thanks, Amy-mmmaugh!" Gallant sputtered as another monster's tongue made it past his hands.

"I could just freeze them all." said Clockblocker.

Amy shook her head. "No. I think my power sends their original selves halfway into another dimension or some bullshit like that. If you freeze my pets then my power might think you killed them and try to bring the originals back. _Halfway_ back, so you have to scrub bits of villain brains out of your costumes."

"Well, then I could-" started Browbeat.

"_No._" said Amy. "I've considered every alternative. The only option is for Gallant to bear with it until the PRT vans arrive. It's a regrettable but unavoidable consequence of my power."

There was a pause.

"Uh, if you can tell them not to eat me, can't you tell them not to lick me?" said Gallant.

"Sorry. Outside the scope of my abilities." said Amy.

"Really?"

"Oh, don't be such a sissy. They're just overly affectionate puppies, once you get used to them." Amy reached forward and pulled another monster away from Gallant, the six-armed one, and rubbed the knots of muscle that composed its misshapen head. "Who's a cute little bug-controlling psychopath? You are! Yes, you are!"

The monster let out a horrendous noise that was nothing whatsoever like a purr.

"You don't have a cape name yet, do you girl? Let's give you a nice stupid cape name so no one will take you seriously if you try to be a villain when you get out of juvie. How about...Ladybug? Does my cute little girl want to be a Ladybug?"

The monster let out another horrendous not-purr.

"I thought so! Ladybug it is." Amy hugged the bug monster and rubbed its belly.

Gallant managed to bat away the remaining monsters, then backpedaled as the ground around him bulged upward, forming a barrier to protect him. Vista's work, warping the space to defend him. The monsters scattered and returned to Amy's side. Gallant gave a sigh of relief. "Thanks, Vista. You're a lifesaver."

Vista beamed. After a second, she warped a narrow tube of space in front of her and stretched out a hand, gingerly petting the bug-monster's head from fifteen feet away. The monster sniffed her hand inquisitively.

"See?" said Amy. "Just like a puppy."

The bug-monster shot out its tongue at lightning speed, wrapping Vista's arm in an iron grip, and snapped open its jaws lined with razor-sharp teeth-

Vista hurriedly drew back her hand.

"A very hungry puppy." said Amy. She smacked the monster across the mandibles. "Bad girl! If you do that again I won't let you eat _anyone_ later." She paused. "Not that I would let you do that, anyway. Because that would be bad."

The bug-monster trilled mournfully.

Glory Girl finally caught sight of Brandish and waved. "Hey, Mom! Mom! Amy and I beat the Undersiders! She can come on our hero missions now, right? We even thought of a cool hero name for her! It was, uh-"

"Echidna." said Kid Win. "The mother of monsters."

"Right! Echidna!" said Glory Girl. "It's a perfect description of her power, but its Greek so it sounds elegant and sophisticated and not villainous at all! Don't you think so, Amy?"

Amy beamed at her. "You're so right, Vicky!"

Brandish sighed. She'd have to cope, somehow. She should have known what she was in for when she adopted Psychosoma's daughter.


	7. King

I had never fought back against the bullies. Not after I learned that my resistance was futile more than a year ago. The best I could hope for was to avoid, escape, survive.

Now I realized that that had been futile as well. They had never made me suffer this much before, I had never even imagined it was possible, not in my worst nightmares.

Locked in a steel cage, smothered by rotting bloody waste, insects crawling under my clothes and buzzing in my ears...I felt my white hot glow of outrage coming back.

_I'll make them suffer too!_

I felt something shift within me and I stepped outside myself. I looked down at myself from a higher plane of existence. Detached, examining the girl trapped in the locker with a clinical eye. My pain, discomfort, stress, it all dropped away in an instant. They were _that girl_'s problems, not mine.

And that was when I saw _Them._

The other people with me in this higher plane. If they could be called people. They were ghostly shadows, standing behind the girl in a neat, orderly line. Two girls, a boy, an elderly couple, an older man.

The ghosts were only faintly recognizable as human shapes. Or perhaps they were _too_ human.

Their bodies and faces were smoothed over, as if they were made of clay, or dolls made from a common mold. Anonymous artificial people, no features to reveal their identities.

But _inside_...their skin was glistening and transparent, revealing the muscle and bone and organs and brain underneath.

It was an almost painfully vivid hyperawareness, far more than simple sight. I shouldn't have been able to see the skin at the same time as the muscle and bone underneath, but they were all clear as day. I could tell that the young ghosts were in good physical shape, while the elderly ghosts had arthritic bones, weak liver and kidneys, and the elderly woman had a small cancer growing in her left breast.

I shifted my attention between the girl and the ghosts. What was the point of all this?

The girl in the locker gasped for breath, choking on the smell of blood and rot. I felt a distant echo of the sensation, a hint of discomfort.

Then the sensations _shifted_, sliding from the girl in the locker onto the ghostly girl hovering behind her.

The girl in the locker relaxed a fraction, and the ghostly girl behind her recoiled in disgust. The ghost gasped, half-choked, then blew all the air out of her lungs, as if she was futilely trying to banish the smell.

I became aware of more of the locker girl's injuries. Minor bruises on her nose and cheeks where she'd been pressed into the waste face-first. Cuts on her arms and legs where she'd been scraped against the metal frame as she was jammed inside. More brusies on her head and limbs from her wild thrashing in the enclosed space. A papercut on her index finger and a scrape on the back of her hand she'd acquired the previous night while making an art project. The slight ache in her head and lassitude in her limbs from not getting a full night's sleep.

One by one, the wounds slid from the locker girl onto the girl-ghost hovering behind her. The ghost staggered and ran its hands over its body, taking stock of its wounds in disbelief.

The locker girl was completely healed now. She had no need to panic anymore, no need to escape outside herself. The girl was fine, she was fine, she was perfectly fine, she was...she was...I was...

I came back to myself with a shock.

I was still trapped in the locker, but now I was _fine_. Better than fine. I don't think I'd ever felt so good before in my life. A sense of...peace. Perfect security, perfect tranquility. Nothing could harm me. Nothing could touch me.

I wanted to be like this forever.

I turned my head, as much as I could in the cramped space, and looked at the ghostly girl hovering behind me. I could see her clear as day through the locker door, doubled over and hacking at the pungent smell invading her lungs, kneeling like a vassal before her Queen.

The other five ghosts stood in a neat and orderly line behind her. Dutiful guardians, patiently waiting their turn. I focused on two of them, the elderly couple, and after a moment they shuffled to the back of the line, the man in the back stepping forward to take their place.

I smiled at the ghost girl behind me. "Thank you. It's been a long time since I had friends to back me up."

The ghost didn't reply, but she seemed to have a faint awareness that I was there. She glanced up at me and there was a glimmer in her eyes that was almost familiar.

I smiled wider. "That's right. You and me. We're going to get out of here."

The first thing to do was get room to maneuver. I pushed at the waste around me, trying to compact it onto the sides of the locker. I felt the waste as vividly as ever, but the _unpleasant_ parts of the sensation, the sliminess and the smell and the infectious bacteria...they never even touched me. They slid smoothly onto the ghost girl without me having to will it. The ghost shivered and began rubbing at her skin, at the dried blood and fluids that had suddenly appeared caked-on to her arms.

The work was slow, but robbed of its disgusting features it was almost pleasant. Halfway through a fat fly landed in my ear and buzzed angrily, but it didn't trouble me. The ghost slapped at her ear.

I laughed. Nothing could touch me.

After a few minutes of work, I had more space. My arms were at my sides, and now I slid my hands up to the level of my shoulders.

The movement dislodged a bloody piece of waste from the roof of the locker that fell and landed in my mouth. I gagged, purely by reflex, but it wasn't necessary. The moment the waste entered my mouth it simply vanished.

I blinked. What?

The ghost startled and brought her hands to her throat. She hacked and spit out a ghostly chunk of waste onto the floor, where it promptly dissolved into insubstantial ether.

I laughed harder this time. Nothing could touch me. Any matter that offended me was simply annihilated.

It only took me a minute to clear the rest of the space around my head and arms. I had room to maneuver at last.

The next thing to do was to get then locker open. I couldn't unlock it from the inside, but the lock was a flimsy one, holding the door closed with a single rod of metal at a single point at half-height on the locker. If I could break the rod of metal, or bend the metal door of the locker around it, I could force the door open.

I pulled back my elbow and banged at the lock at full force. No effect on the lock. No effect on me, either. The faint throb of pain slid onto the ghost.

That gave me an idea. I could break my body's limits. Hit harder, now that I had a friend to back me up and accept the damage.

I drew back my elbow and slammed as hard as I could. Then harder. Then harder. Then _harder_.

After a few minutes of punishment, I realized that my progress was too slow. I felt much stronger than before. I bet I could shatter the lock without a problem if I had the space to get a running start and give it a flying kick. But trapped as I was, I simply didn't have the leverage and angle of attack to do do the job. I was doing more damage to my body than to the lock. The metal rod had bent but not broken.

The ghost was clutching its elbow, laying on its back, stricken. The bone of her elbow had shattered from the repeated blows, and the skin and muscle on half her arm was shot through with rips and tears.

The damage was so severe it had spread to the ghost behind her in the line. The second girl ghost was cradling her own elbow, her flesh badly bruised and a hairline fracture in the bone.

I realized that the damage I received wasn't being _mirrored_ by the ghosts, not exactly. If I damaged a particular patch of muscle and that exact area was already damaged on the nearest ghost, the damage would transfer to a nearby area instead. There were limits, though. After the first ghost's elbow and all of the nearby flesh and bone had been destroyed beyond any functionality, new damage was transferred to the next ghost in line.

...which meant I could run out of guardians, if I wasn't careful. Then I would be vulnerable. I would lose this peace and I could be hurt again and-

_No!_

No. Never. I had to get out of here. I had to make my guardians count.

"Don't worry guys." I said. I put an upbeat tone in my voice. "I won't let your help go to waste. We can do this!"

The ghosts watched me without a word. But I could tell they appreciated the thought.

I formed a new plan. I wouldn't break the lock's metal rod. Instead, I would hammer at the top part of the locker, bend the flimsy metal outward until there was enough space to reach through with my hand and enter the lock's combination.

The first step was to turn around. There wasn't quite enough room, but that was okay. I twisted my body to its limits, until a glowing hot thread of pain was flowing through me to the ghost. Then I braced myself with my arms and legs and _forced_ myself to twist further.

It shouldn't have been physically possible to break my body like that, but I was stronger now. I felt a _crack_ as a bone in one of my legs snapped, then another _crack_ as my hip gave way. I didn't feel any pain, that was shifted to the ghost, but I willed my body to accept the broken bones for a second so that I could twist unnaturally to turn in the cramped space. The instant I finished turning my broken bones were shifted as well. I snapped back into perfect health.

I blinked. Forcing myself to accept the damage had been disorienting. I had been floating outside my body again. As if my soul refused to reside in a damaged body for even an instant.

I heard distant shouts from outside the locker. I listened for a minute, hoping someone had heard my banging and was bringing help at last, but they weren't talking about me. Something about getting a nurse, or an ambulance.

I couldn't let myself get distracted. The next part was the important one. I didn't have enough space to wind up for a punch, not at the height where the metal of the locker door was weakest, but I had another option.

I rested my forehead against the metal door of the locker. I took a deep breath, drew my head back as far as I could in the meager space, then slammed it forward.

_Bang!_

The metal of the locker was visibly _bent_. I was definitely a lot stronger now. If I had room to wind up I could probably punch straight through the metal.

I would have to make my blows count, though. The ghost girl was already prostrate on the floor. Her forehead was bleeding and there was a faint microfracture in her skull. Again, harder this time.

_Bang!_

Again.

_Bang!_

Again.

_Bang!_

It took fifteen or twenty blows before the door was bent far enough that I could start to work with my hands. It was just in time. The first ghost's face was a wreck, the front of her skull caved in and the tissue damage radiating deep into her brain. The damage had begun to transfer to the second ghost, who was kneeling and cradling her head in her hands, nursing a fractured skull and bruised eyes and cheeks.

I awkwardly reached around the bent-out top of the locker door and got a hand on the lock outside. I tried to enter the lock combination, but after a few seconds of futile attempts I had a better idea. With the new space I had available, I hit the top of the locker door with a flurry of punches, then when it had bent down enough, hammer blows with my elbows. After a few more strikes, the top of the locker bent far enough that it simply snapped clean off.

I crawled out of the locker and fell onto the floor of the hallway. The jagged edge of the metal ran across my stomach but it didn't matter. It couldn't touch me.

Free at last.

I felt strangely at peace. I should have been filled with rage, revenge against the bullies, racing to the principal's office to get them expelled for the shit they'd put me through.

But somehow I felt...satisfied. As though my exertions had given them a kind of absolution.

The hallways were oddly empty. There were shouts coming from the far end of the school, in what I realized was the direction of the nurse's office. I guessed I should go there too. I knew I was physically fine, _perfectly_ fine, but the nurse should probably give me a look for formality's sake.

As I walked through the empty hallways the ghosts followed me. They weren't moving under their own power so much as being moved by an outside force. The ghost girl directly behind me was hovering an inch above the ground, laid out on her back, drawing her breath in labored gasps that were growing fainter every second. And she was _fading_, turning insubstantial, as if she was about to disappear.

"Thanks, ghost guardian girl." I said. "You saved my life back there. I don't know what you are, but you were protecting me with your own life and I, I can't thank you enough. If this is the end for you, I'll...I'll never forget you."

I turned the corner to the nurse's office, and was greeted by a swarm of activity. There were three teachers and staff members at the door in agitated conversation. Two took off running in the direction of the principal's office, leaving one behind in front of the door. It was my Contemporary Topics teacher.

"Mister Gladly." I said. "I need to see the nurse-"

"No!" he shouted. "No. Uh. Sorry, Taylor. You can't go in there. Unless it's a real emergency. You should leave."

I blinked. What was his deal? "I, uh, some girls locked me in my locker and I had to force my way out. I'm pretty banged up."

He looked at me with fear in his eyes. But not fear of me. He barely acknowledged me.

"I'm sorry but you can't come in. You have to leave _right now_."

"But I-"

"_Leave!_ Listen to me Taylor for God's sake it's for your own safety! It's dangerous here. There's a-"

The PA system came on, and Principal Blackwell's voice echoed over the speakers.

"Teachers, students. This is an emergency. For your safety, stay in your classrooms and lock the doors and windows. The PRT is on the way to apprehend an unknown parahuman who attacked two students. I repeat, stay inside your classrooms. The PRT is on the way. We will keep you informed-"

I don't know what made me press on. A dozen strange things about my situation snapping into place. Ghosts following me, parahumans, accepting my pain, students attacked, held in the nurse's office-

I pushed past Mister Gladly into the nurse's office and saw it all in the space of a second.

Emma Barnes, laid out on a bed and groaning, a hand clutching her bloody face She was staring wide-eyed at the bed next to her.

Sophia Hess, or what had _been_ her. Covered in blood and bandages, one arm shattered, more blood at her hip and leg, her face a ruin. Trying to breathe and failing. Her body was _flickering_, changing between flesh and insubstantial shadows so fast it was barely perceptible.

Sophia's chest rattled. She went still.

The ghost girl behind me faded out and disappeared.

A new ghost bloomed into existence and took a place in the line. A middle aged man, of a very familiar height and weight.

I looked at Sophia and Emma.

I looked at Mister Gladly.

I..I...

I ran.


	8. Breed

"Creeper. Skeevy little skank."

"Can't believe they let her back in school. Disgusting. She's a menace to society."

"Are you trying to get us all killed, creeper girl? Is that what you want?"

The girl cowered under the mocking taunts of the bullies, clutching a spiral notebook to her chest. She fiddled with her glasses nervously, then tried to push past the girls crowding around her, with little success.

"Ick, it touched me!"

"Ewwww! That's sick!"

"Say you're sorry, creeper girl!"

"Ahaha! Yeah, you'd _better_ apologize for getting your creep on us-"

"_You __**horrible**__ girls! You leave Yukie alone this instant!_"

The crowd of bullies startled and spun to face the interloper.

Taylor Hebert, the shining hero of justice.

"You three are a disgrace to Arcadia High School!" scolded Taylor. "I left Winslow to get away from that crap. You're supposed to be better than this."

The leader of the bullies snorted. Arianna du Pont, wealthy heiress to the du Pont haberdashery empire and A-grade asshole.

"You're defending the creepbag, Taylor? You of all people know how dangerous she is."

Taylor glared at her. "Yes. Yukie should never have tried to fulfill her art project with her racy two hundred page Lung x Kaiser romance manga. That was wrong. And attracting the ire of supervillains is always a bad idea.

"But!" Taylor continued with a flourish. "That was an honest mistake! Yukie immigrated to our country just a year ago. The border between tasteful and inappropriate is different in every culture. She served her suspension and learned her lesson. It's time to let it go."

Yukie beamed at Taylor.

Arianna folded her arms. "Yeah, right. The little freak chose to show all of us her disgusting drawings, it's on her if she doesn't like what we have to say about them."

"You're just jealous of her artistic ability."

"As if. You pretend you're a moral guardian since you're a cape. We all know the _real_ reason you're defending her is you're a nightmare fetishist like her."

Taylor narrowed her eyes. "You're a pathetic bully, itching for a chance to hurt someone. But that only works on people who can't fight back."

Taylor's backpack rustled and bulged. Something inside made an angry high-pitched squeak.

The bullies took a step backward.

"You wouldn't dare." said Arianna. "You'll be expelled. My lawyers will have you locked up so fast your head will spin."

Taylor took a step forward. "I'm allowed to defend innocents against the villains who menace them. There's nothing in the law that says the villains have to be parahumans."

Her backpack squeaked again, louder and angrier this time.

The bullies wavered, and Arianna's eyes went wide.

"This isn't over, Taylor." hissed Arianna. She spun on her heel and flounced away, her posse of followers co-flouncing with her.

Taylor let out a sigh of relief. She had been technically telling the truth. She was allowed to defend innocents against normal bullies. She just wasn't allowed to use her power to do so. At most she could have given the bullies another scolding, or hypothetically, shoved them and made a run for it. But they didn't need to know that.

"What a bunch of jerks." she muttered. "You okay, Yukie?"

Yukie beamed. "Thank you so much Hatcher! I mean, Taylor! You're a lifesaver!"

"I'm just doing my job, citizen." Taylor said with a smile. She'd always wanted to say that.

"So humble! You're my favorite hero!"

"I'm actually a rogue, but-"

"They were strict in my old country, everyone hated my art and they kicked me out of school. Here they suspend me for only a week and superheroes defend me! I love this country and you too, patriotic American hero Hatcher!"

"Well, I, um. Thanks."

"Can I have your autograph? Can I be your friend?"

"Er...sure. I mean, sure to the autograph, but being a friend is kind of a big...um, look, you seem like a nice person, but we've only ever talked one or two times, and-"

Yukie looked at her with doe eyes.

Taylor wavered. "Well, I...um...okay. We can be friends."

A faint blush spread across Yukie's cheeks. She handed Taylor a folded-up piece of paper. "Here! I made a drawing of you and your cute little pets. I hope you like it! Sign it and I'll frame it and put it up in my house for everyone to see!"

The bell rang, and Yukie startled. "Oh no, I have to get to class. See you later!"

Taylor watched her new friend hustle down the hallway. Amazing. She'd always wished for superpowers in the hope that they would solve all her problems...and they _totally did_. She'd gotten a new school, a new cape career, the power to stand up to bullies, and more friends than she'd ever had before.

She unfolded the illustration her new friend had given her. She winced. She didn't remember her costume showing that much skin, or her hatchlings being so...manly. And she was almost _positive_ they didn't swoon like that when she held them in her arms...

...

1:10 pm

Taylor felt a rumbling in her stomach. Ugh. The bullies had gotten her riled up and her power was acting up.

She hurried through the halls to the nurse's office. Nurse Carey looked up as she came up. "Hey Taylor. The is the sixth time today."

"Just feeling a little stressed. I've got a Chem test coming up and I don't feel confident about my acids."

The nurse nodded sympathetically. "I always hated chemistry. All those elements and bonds and orbitals. Don't tell Miss Burwell I said that."

"Yeah. I want to be a chemistry expert so I can understand the acids my guys make. My tinker friend says they're stronger than conventional-"

Her stomach rumbled.

"Augh, sorry!"

Taylor hustled into the special room the school had set aside for her to indulge her new needs. The room was simple, empty, blank. Nowhere for a slippery hatchling to hide, no way for it to make an escape.

She sat on the floor, took off her PRT-approved biocontainment backpack, and unzipped the one-way entry port. The backpack jostled and squirmed.

"Cool it, guys. Calm down."

The backpack went still.

Taylor cupped her hands in front of her mouth, released the pressure that had been building inside her, and-

_Blort!_

A hatchling climbed out of her throat, its lemon-sized body bristling with needle-thin spines like a porcupine, its dozens of legs skittering as they clambered over her tongue and teeth. It made an adorable squeak of joy as it was born, its chemosensitive feelers twitching as it beheld the outside world for the first time. Then it fell into Taylor's cupped hands and looked up at her with its black, glistening compound eyes.

Aww.

Taylor gave the hatchling a sad smile. "Sorry, little guy. In you go."

The hatchling squirmed a little as she stuffed it into the one-way port of her containment backpack, but it didn't otherwise protest.

The psychologist told her it was a quirk of her power. No one else thought her hatchlings were adorable. Well, no one other than Greg Veder and Yukie just now. Everyone else tended to run away screaming in fear.

But at the same time, her power didn't make her think of them as pets. There was no emotional connection.

They were more like...expendable combatants, or livestock. She liked their company, she didn't want them to die, but the sad truth was that she made eight to twelve of them per day, and they had to eat a _lot_ of flesh before they grew big enough to be useful. She couldn't possibly buy enough cattle carcasses to raise them all to adulthood.

She was glad her power didn't make her feel heartbreak when she had to euthanize her extra hatchlings. She never would have discovered their more lucrative, commercial uses.

Hell, she would probably have become some kind of freaky villainous mass murderer.

She shook her head and smiled at the absurd thought.

Then she dashed out the door to get to her chem class. She'd studied for two hours last night. Those tricksy orbitals would never know what hit them!

...

3:00 pm

Taylor got off the bus and made the short walk to her warehouse in the nicer part of the Docks. There was a sign on the front in plain lettering.

"Hebert Xenobiology Inc."

She waved to the pair of PRT uniforms on duty. They returned her wave with a joking pair of salutes. They were good guys, but she resented them a little all the same. After her very public trigger event - thankfully Panacea had made it in time to cure the victims - she'd been forced to agree to PRT oversight for her business. The guard salaries came directly out of her profit margins.

It wasn't like they were necessary. The gangs left her alone. After that stupid assassin teleported into the high security containment room and got what was coming to him, no one dared to give it a second go.

There was a visitor waiting for her at the entrance. A short woman dressed in old-fashioned clothing like a Victorian doll.

Parian, her first and favorite business partner.

"Hatcher. Long time no see."

Taylor smiled. "The artist shows her face at last. The new costumes coming along okay?"

Parian raised her hand and tilted it, a so-so gesture. "The design is good, but the PRT is worried about protection for the neck. Here, let me show you."

Parian gestured, and a pile of clothing next to her sprang to life. It inflated into a man-sized shape. A prototype PRT officer uniform animated by the rogue's telekinesis.

"Their standard heavy combat uniforms have inserts here and here to protect against damage to the spine. We can't use the same stage-3 hatchling scales as the rest of the uniform, they're not strong enough. The stage-5 armor plating we're using for the helmets would work, but the scales are too big to fit in this spot. I've been racking my brain for an answer and I'm coming up blank."

The organic armor her hatchlings grew as they matured was exceptionally strong for its flexibility, an advance over the standard PRT kit. The liason assured them that they had a sweet contract waiting for them if they could work out a reproducible and aesthetically pleasing design.

Taylor studied the uniform. "Hmm. Can't we just use the anterior dorsal plate on the stage-4s? It's almost a perfect fit."

Parian took a stack of photocopies out of her pocket and flipped through them. Taylor's anatomical drawings of the hatchlings at different stages of development. "...oh. You're right. But the outer segments, here and here, they flare out like wings. They'll get in the way."

"We'll chop them off, crop it to fit."

"Won't that mess with their tensile strength?"

"That's what you'd think, but the way the plate grows it shouldn't be a problem. We just need to find the right angle to crop off the end bits with a clean cut."

"...Yeah. I see it." Parian put the photocopies away, then gave Taylor a curious look, a slight tilt to her mask that Taylor knew hid a smile underneath. "You're smart, Taylor. I never would have figured that out."

Taylor ducked her head. "I, I just have a lot of time to think about this stuff. I don't have a cool power like yours that lets you make anything you can imagine, so I have to work with what I have. Let's go in and take a look."

Taylor unlocked the warehouse and led them inside, fastidiously closing the door behind her. The warehouse had rows of reinforced steel cages to hold the hatchlings, stronger cages for the more advanced ones.

She ducked into a strategically placed booth and put on her costume. White clothes covered with hatchling armor, much like their prototype for the PRT but tailored for her body. A bit lighter on the armor, for the sake of flexibility.

She stopped by the large fine-meshed cage for the stage-1 hatchlings and dumped out the seven new births from today. They squealed as they tumbled in to join their siblings, and the motion spurred the rest into action. Soon fifty hatchlings were scurrying on the bottom of the cage.

The cage began to rotate on its axis. It was fashioned as a giant hamster wheel, and its hatchling-powered rotational motion charged up the warehouse's emergency backup power supply. Each hatchling was born with a week's worth of potential energy stored in its body, and she was damn well going to make use of it.

Hebert Xenobiology Inc. didn't let anything go to waste.

They came to the large cage with the stage-4s. Taylor gave the hatchlings a judging look, then gestured to Parian. "They're getting restless. Can you send a dummy up to give them a target?"

Parian stepped back. A pile of cloth on her back slithered to the floor and inflated into a six foot tall cartoon mouse. The mouse strode forward and danced a merry jig.

The reaction from the cage was immediate. A volley of projectiles, making _crack_ sounds as they broke the sound barrier before they slammed against the bullet-resistant shield around the cage, then burst into dozens of glistening white globs of deadly acid.

The acid dripped down the shield and ran down a sloped floor to collect in a container below. Taylor kneeled and looked at the acid level in the container. Almost full.

Taylor put on a pair of heavy gloves and carefully capped the container, replacing it with an empty one. She labeled the container with the date and time and put it on the shelf for outgoing shipments.

Parian peered at the label. "Hatchling acid for Datawizz. Who or what is Datawizz?"

"She's a data storage tinker based in Houston."

"Huh. From her name I'd think she pees out circuit boards."

Taylor chuckled. "Nope. Well, close. She uses acid to etch nanoscale circuit components." Taylor raised a palm."Which doesn't make any physical sense, I know, but Tinkers are bullshit. I lost her when she started talking about space-warping technology. Anyway, she says my guys' stuff works faster and cleaner than lab-made chemicals, something about the organic impurities boosting the effects."

"Nice. The pay's good?"

"Nothing special, but worlds better than that pompus Chem professor at Brockton U."

Parian winced behind her mask. "Sorry for setting you up with him, Hatcher. He was a good teacher. I didn't think he'd be such a...jerk."

Taylor smiled a little. Parian always caught herself before swearing. She didn't know if it was a habit the rogue had picked up from working kids birthday parties, or if Parian thought that cussing would spoil her delicate sixteen year old ears. Either way, it was kind of cute.

Taylor stepped up to the cage. "Hey guys! Come here!"

The stage-4 hatchlings bounded forward and pressed themselves against the shield. They were four feet tall, almost to their adult size, and their claws scraped against the shield with a sound like nails on a chalkboard. Not the monomolecular sharpness that would sell as the blade of a top-tier hunting knife, that would have to wait until they were stage-5, but formidable all the same.

Taylor looked back and forth between the hatchlings and Parian's mock-up uniform. "Yeah, look here. The anterior dorsal plate is where it's at. Perfect. I'll get you three by the end of the day. You want to do the formal strength testing or should I?"

"I'll take care of it."

"Great, thanks." Taylor put her hands on her hips and studied the hatchlings, picking out which ones she would use for the project. That one was getting sickly, near the end of its life, and _that_ one kept trying to escape the cage and melt peoples' faces off...

Taylor became aware that Parian was standing very still. The cloth around her was fluttering as if it was caught in a faint wind.

Oh. Right.

"Still not comfortable with the harvesting, huh." said Taylor.

Parian shifted in place. "I don't _mind_ it as such, but..."

"I told you, it's the circle of life. You're born, your mother feeds you the carcasses of the dead, you grow into a deadly beast and kill animals to feed your young, then you die and your own carcass is used by others in turn."

"We don't all survive by eating animal carcasses."

Taylor raised an eyebrow. "You're vegetarian?"

"Vegan."

"Oh. That explains why you always order the portabello burger at Bob's. Then, um..." Taylor pointed to her rolls of cloth. "What about your fabric?"

"One hundred percent cruelty-free. Artificial leather substitutes, faux fur, organically grown hemp."

"The dye on your costume?"

"Not tested on animals."

"Well, um. Well...what about that cat doll golem thing you used to clear out the rats when I moved in here? It swallowed them alive!"

"Humane mobile rat trap for live captures. I dropped the rats off on the other side of town behind a restaurant so they can live out the rest of their ratly lives in peace." Parian wagged a finger. "Because harming living, feeling, sentient beings is wrong."

"Huh." Taylor blinked. "You never told me any of that. Then...forgive me for being blunt about this, but why the heck are you working with me?"

Parian tilted her head, considering.

"I...like money?"

Taylor scoffed. "Really."

"Yes. That's part of it. I also want to do good works. I'm not a fighter, but if I can make better uniforms for the PRT I'll feel like I've done real good for the world."

"Except you make them pay hand over fist for it. Little miss hardass negotiator."

"Like I said, I like money. And...I was the only rogue in the city, before. It was lonely. I was always afraid one of the gangs would come after me, try to recruit me, and I wouldn't be able to fight back- Oh!" Parian raised her hand to her lips. "I'm sorry. I don't mean I'm only working with you for protection."

"No, it's fine. I get it."

"You're my friend, Taylor. A very good friend. I wouldn't work with you otherwise. That's the most important part, really, I should have said that first. But the friendship only came later. And in business, well, two people are better than one. If someone bad puts the moves on you, I'll be by your side to back you up."

"I get it. You don't have to apologize." Taylor smiled a little. "For a second there you made it sound like I was a gangster. Bribing you with money to commit immoral acts, under the guise of helping your friends and family. Seducing you to the dark side."

Parian's mask ducked a fraction. "I'm older than you, Taylor. I doubt you could seduce me into anything."

"Right. I'll keep that in mind."

"By the way, are you free for dinner tonight? It seems like we haven't done anything together in ages. In our civilian identities, I mean."

"It's only been a week." said Taylor. "I'll have to take a rain check on today, I've got plans with my dad. Maybe tomorrow? Wait, shoot, I forgot. Chris invited me to his birthday party. Okay, Saturday then?"

Parian nodded. "It's a date."

...

8:00pm

The sun was setting when Taylor left the warehouse, the stage-4 armor she'd collected for Parian tucked away in her backpack. The delivery of cattle carcasses had come in late, but she'd gotten them set up soon enough. Eleven hatchlings were on the way to their next stage of evolution.

As Taylor passed the gate she noticed that the PRT uniforms were gone. A woman in a black bodysuit and cloak stood in the entrance, idly toying with a wrist-mounted crossbow.

The junior hero, Shadow Stalker. The guard on the afternoon shift.

Taylor didn't think her operation really rated a _cape_ as a security guard, but Director Piggot provided her free of charge. Apparently Shadow Stalker had a severe discipline problem and had been taken off patrols indefinitely to be the nightly Hebert Xenobiology security guard. The Director had been very insistent that Taylor report _any_ bad behavior or signs of a confrontational attitude on the junior hero's part.

Taylor felt sorry for the girl. The hero should be out catching criminals and putting them behind bars, not forced to stand guard at a crime-free warehouse night after night. Apparently the hero's gear included surveillance equipment that reported her activities to the PRT, so she couldn't even play games on her phone or listen to music without being ratted out to her superiors.

Taylor waved. "Hey Shadow Stalker. Nice night, huh?"

"Hatcher." replied the hero. Laconic as usual. Taylor had barely gotten five words out of her since she'd met her. At first she'd thought the cape was shy, but that didn't seem to fit her attitude.

Taylor decided to cheer her up.

"Um, I know you don't like your guard duty much, but, um, I wanted to tell you I really appreciate your help. You're supporting small businesses and revitalizing the Brockton Bay economy."

Shadow Stalker grunted.

"You're helping fight crime, too. I can't beat up criminals like you can, since I'm only allowed to use my power against A-class threats. But Parian and I came up with a great new PRT uniform design! It'll be a few weeks, but they'll have armor ten times stronger and half the weight. They'll be able to take a hit from Hookwolf without going down. That's a darn good return for a few weeks of hero work, am I right?"

Shadow Stalker grunted again. Annoyed this time.

"Oh, and look at this. I got another person to join my fan club! It's not official yet, I guess, but she drew me this neat picture."

Taylor unfolded Yukie's drawing and showed it off with a proud smile.

"At this rate I'll have as many fans in my club as you do by the time the year is out! So don't worry about your heroism being wasted guarding a warehouse. You're doing your part to beat criminals-"

Shadow Stalker _growled_ like a stage-6 hatchling and made a flying leap onto the top of the warehouse.

Taylor watched her go. She shrugged. Oh well. You can't please everyone.

She walked to the bus stop, one hand in the pocket with her Hebert Xenobiology brand hunting knife. Dad insisted that she didn't walk outside late at night without protection.

That wouldn't be a problem for much longer. She'd use her profits to buy a van to drive around town, with plenty of room in the back for storage and hatchling transport. She was thinking of spray-painting her logo on the side and calling it the Hatchermobile. But was that too generic?

Taylor pondered the problem, then set it aside. She had more important things to worry about.

Like dinner. Dad had promised that they could try one of Mom's old pot pie recipes. He'd never been able to make it come out right himself, but now that his daughter was a skilled entrepreneur he said he was confident they could manage it together.

Typical, really. Ever since she got powers and Dad found out about the bullying, he had been nothing but supportive of her school life and career as a rogue. He'd visited her new school and talked to all her teachers in person, telling them to look out for kids treating her badly because of her power. And he'd used his expertise in negotiations to force the PRT to play ball and make the concessions that let her turn her business dream into a reality.

She felt silly for keeping her problems a secret for so long. She and her dad had been nearly estranged. Two individuals going through life on their own, whose only connection was that they happened to live in the same house. But now that was over. They were a family again.

Taylor got on the bus and rode home, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, plans for the perfect pot pie dancing in her mind.


End file.
